Sing For Me
by quintessential-dreamer
Summary: Blaine isn't feeling so well. a rather pointless but cute piece


Kurt wakes up in the dark. He glances at the clock and winces; it shows 2am in the morning, the luminous green flashing hurting his eyes. Rubbing his gritty eyes, he slowly pushes himself up, bracing his back against the headboard and groaning when he accidentally jolts his head against it. He really is a zombie in the morning. Unlike Blaine, who's always abnormally chipper before the sun rises – Kurt can never understand how Blaine can stand to waltz around the apartment humming Duran Duran at 7am as if it's already well into the day.

Blaine.

He turns, and sees only rumpled blankets instead of his boyfriend. This must have been what woke him up. The imprint of his body lingers on the bed sheet and the indentation his head makes on the pillow still remains. The bed seems large and forlorn without Blaine curled up there beside him. It's been a good two weeks since Blaine moved into his and Rachel's tiny apartment in the heart of New York City, and already Kurt can't imagine what life was like before living with Blaine. He's used to falling asleep with Blaine's arms curled tightly around his waist and chest pressed against his back, become attuned to the way Blaine breathes a quiet "good morning" into Kurt's ear when he wakes up before pressing a quick kiss to his earlobe.

Even though Blaine has probably just gone out for a drink of water or a trip to the bathroom, Kurt gets up anyway and plods blearily out of the bedroom. Thank goodness he does, because as soon as he opens the door, he hears the muffled sound of retching followed by a few hoarse coughs. He perks up instantly, senses sharpened in worry.

"Blaine?" he calls concernedly, careful not to wake Rachel, who's probably – and should be – fast asleep in her room down the corridor. He makes his way hastily towards the bathroom, anxiety heightened by the continued sound of retching. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, light streaming from the cracks. He pushes the door open gently, and to his horror sees Blaine kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, dressed in a grey shirt and sweats, arms bracing himself limply over the lip.

Shit.

"Blaine," he cries, falling to his knees beside him, winding an arm around Blaine's waist to support him. His mind is a jumbled mess as he tries to figure out what caused this and what to do first: call the doctor, or tend to Blaine. As if on cue, Blaine's body slackens and it's only Kurt's grip that prevents him from collapsing flat onto the linoleum. Kurt pulls Blaine's body into his, pressing his lips to Blaine's matted curls, rubbing both hands up and down his back, alarmed at how much heat Blaine's body is emanating.

Blaine's eyes are half-closed, his face deathly pale and shiny with sweat. "Kurt," he mumbles, opening his eyes slightly, and tries to right himself.

"Shh," Kurt murmurs soothingly, clutching Blaine firmly to his chest, "don't try to move, let me hold you."

"My head hurts," Blaine manages to say weakly. "It's so cold."

"Don't worry, it's gonna be fine," Kurt comforts him, stroking the back of Blaine's head. He wipes the sweat off Blaine's forehead with the back of his hand, pressing a kiss to his hairline. "Let's get you out of here."

With difficulty, he extracts Blaine from his arms and half lifts him to his feet. Blaine is barely conscious, but still remains extraordinarily tiny compared to Kurt – who grew even more during his first year in NYC – so it's fairly effortless for Kurt to sweep his legs off the ground next and carry him like a ragdoll back to their room.

He places Blaine gently on his side of the bed, one-handedly fluffing the pillow before letting Blaine's head rest on it and tugs the blanket over his limp form. Blaine groans in response, curling into a ball. Kurt can see him shivering even through the blanket, and he feels a pang in his heart at seeing Blaine so weakened like this.

"I'll get you some water," he promises before he darts out of the room. Within seconds, he is back with a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a damp cloth. He kneels by the bedside, terrified to find that Blaine looks even worse than before. He is moaning softly and is shaking even harder than before. He considers waking Rachel up, but decides against it; she has an audition tomorrow and needs her rest. He presses the cloth to Blaine's head, watching as a droplet of water slides down the side of Blaine's face.

"Sit up will you, baby," he says in a low voice so as not to aggravate Blaine's headache. He slips a hand underneath Blaine to prop him up in bed, deftly unscrewing the cap and popping out a few pills. Blaine groans and his head lolls to one side.

"Come on," Kurt tells him firmly, pressing a kiss to his nose. He brushes his fingers against Blaine's lips to open them, then slips the pills in and brings the glass of water to his lips. "Drink," he commands, and smiles as Blaine swallows. He lowers Blaine back onto the bed then draws back, about to resume wiping his forehead, but Blaine reaches out and grabs his forearm with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Lie with me," he mumbles almost incoherently, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "Please," he begs, tears almost forming in his eyes.

"Alright, baby, don't worry. I'll stay," Kurt hurriedly reassures him, stroking Blaine's clammy cheek for good measure. He moves to the other side of the bed and climbs in. He sits up against the headboard and shifts Blaine so that his head is resting in Kurt's lap. Blaine hums happily, snuggling closer to Kurt.

"Comfortable."

Kurt laughs quietly and shakes his head. Blaine can be such a baby sometimes. "Go to sleep, honey. You need your rest," he chides, resting his hand on Blaine's shoulder, rubbing his fingers up and down the slope of his shoulder to neck rhythmically.

"Sing for me?"

"Okay."

Kurt starts humming softly to the tune of _Safe and Sound_, which he knows Blaine loves, before segueing into the lyrics.

_I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go._

When he's done, Blaine tilts his head upwards slightly to stare into Kurt's eyes. His eyes are dry and heavy-lidded with sleep. "I love you."

"I love you too."

When Rachel yanks open the door to their room at 7am the next morning to beg Kurt for an impromptu pep talk, to her surprise she sees Kurt slumped against the headboard, half sitting half lying down with Blaine curled up beside him. Their fingers are entwined even in sleep, clasped hands resting on Kurt's pyjama-clad thigh. They look so peaceful and happy and _in love_.

She smiles indulgently at both of them, staring contentedly for a few seconds, before turning and shutting the door silently behind her.


End file.
